The Death of the Savior
by Lizzy Lovegood
Summary: After Sirius's death, Harry is tired everything, so he writes out his final will and testimony and goes to defeat Voldemort. Features a very angry and angsty Harry.
1. Harry's Will

Disclaimer: Wait, here's another vote coming in . . . nope, I still don't own it. Everything belongs to Jo - always has, always will. Yes, even Remus. . . .

**Chapter 1: Harry's Will **

_To The Order of the Phoenix,_

_Whoever is reading this may be wondering where I have gone. Why, I have gone nowhere, my friends. I will always be with you on the Quidditch Pitch and in Hogwarts castle (although not in the dungeons with Snape, I shall _never _go there again). I am sorry for riddles like this, Dumbledore, you probably know what I'm talking about and I'll appreciate if you'll do this one thing for me, as you've done so little for me over my nearly sixteen years. Just tell everyone else the prophecy and what I have done for I have gone to find Voldemort. He'll probably kill me before I kill him, being the idiot adolescent hero I am, but at this point I don't care. For to the well-organized mind, death is nothing but the next great adventure isn't it, Dumbledore? You hypocrite. Of course you'd say that about your old mate, Nicolas Flamel, but not when your precious weapon is going to put himself in harm's way. Oh, no, you'd rather lock your precious weapon up and not let him breathe some fresh air until it's time for him to come out and defeat the enemy, then, if he's not broken, you'll just lock him away again until he's needed. Dying would be better than that life, Dumbledore and that's what you've given me. You locked me up for ten years with those bastards, the Dursleys, without giving a shit what my life would be like. And don't give me that crap about my mum's blood protecting me. Don't tell me that the great Albus Dumbledore couldn't have set up wards somewhere else. Anyway, I've gone off to die, as that's my fate anyway, so here's my will._

_To the Order of the Phoenix: I'm guessing-and I may be wrong-that Sirius gave me #12 Grimmauld Place and all its contents in his will. Well, I know this is pretty ironic, but my will contradicts that. You guys can use Grimmauld Place for all the space you need to make battle plans against the Death Eaters and of course Voldemort (if I don't finish him off first before I die). Just do me a favor, _kill _Bellatrix Lestrange and of course send Kreacher all the love he ever gave me._

_To the Weasleys: I give all the gold in my Gringotts vault. You guys can use it to get out of the economic problems you've been in all your life. You have treated me like your own these past few years and I'm sorry that I have to end it like this. And though you have a large heart you don't have a very large moneybag, so here you are, hoping it will help._

_To Ron Weasley: Ron, you've been like a brother to me over my five years at Hogwarts. We've had some really good times together and some bad times now that I stop and think about it. Ron, mate, I want you to have my Firebolt. It's under the loose floorboard in my bedroom and if the Dursleys give you any trouble about coming in, say I'll come back as a ghost and curse them into oblivion. But, Ron, don't let your fear rule you on the Quidditch Pitch. You have a great broom now and you have real skill. Don't think about what other people say, especially the Slytherins, just play your best and no one will think the worse of you. Remember, I'll be there, too. Ron, we've always made a lot of trouble together, it reminds me a lot of my dad and Sirius, from what I saw in the Pensieve (Professor Lupin will explain), so I give you my two main mischief-making items, my Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map in hopes that you and Hermione (and perhaps Ginny, Neville, or Luna), will come up with even better pranks than the Marauders or me and you did._

_To Hermione Granger: Hermione, as Ron's been like a brother, you've been like a sister, and you two are like siblings, as you quarrel all the time. I know it might not be worth much, but you can have the copies of my schoolbooks and Hedwig. I know you've always wanted a pet, and I know you have Crookshanks, but . . . hey, Hedwig needs a home too. I know the schoolbooks might not be that great, I've scribbled a bit in the margins, I think Ron and I played Hangman in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, I'm not sure though. Anyway, they're there if you want them and I may have put in a few personal comments there too, including what I think about a particular, greasy-haired git of a Potions master, Snape. Of course, Dumbledore always wanted me to call him _Professor _Snape, but if someone's reading this aloud, you'll know what I think of him too. And on that note of Snape, Hermione, don't let him tell you you're a Know-It-All, you're one of the smartest people I know and if you know the answer, raise your hand, goddamn it, and if he calls you a Know-It-All again, swear at him and say it's from me, alright?_

_To Ginny Weasley: Ginny, you and your whole family have always welcomed me into your home ever since your mum helped me get through to Platform 9 3/4. I haven't really gotten to know you that well over the years and I wished I could've gotten to better. But here are the things I _do _know, you were very taken with me in your first and second years (and maybe your third, I'm not sure)-please don't deny it, that would be an insult to my memory. Ginny, you've grown into a fine young woman and I hope that you and Dean are able to get married someday. Or, if he's not the right guy for you, dump him and find someone else. There'll always be a queue of guys lined up to go with you, believe me, because, I'm blushing as I write this, I really like you and even though you're like a sister to me, I think you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met in my life. Much better than Cho anyway, at least you don't cry 24/7. Ginny, I love you and when I die I'll be thinking of you. I'm sorry that we couldn't spend more time together and maybe the rest of our lives together but it's my fate to kill or be killed, again, the prophecy and I couldn't live with that and put more lives in danger as I am bound to do if I stay alive any longer._

_To Fred and George Weasley: I hope my donation was put to good use for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and that many students are happily using pranks on Filch and Snape. Like I said before, the wizarding world will need laughs in the time ahead, what with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, if I don't defeat him and you guys will always be there to provide them. Oh, and by the way, I bought a few things at Zonko's a while back-third year, I think and they're under the loose floorboard in my bedroom. I hide all my stuff there so the Dursleys won't find it. Anyway, you guys can have it and use it on people (my personal choice would be the Toad Lady) or just sell it. Your choice. Oh, and there's also a Whoopy Cushion in there, it's a Muggle prank that I stole from my cousin. Just put that under Dudley's fat ass one time, will you?_

_To Neville Longbottom: Neville, one of the first things that I have to say to you is that you are _not _nothing! Don't let anyone tell you that, especially Snape and the other Slytherins. You excel in Herbology and who really gives a shit about Potions anyway if that isn't what you want to do in life? You have real skill to be a talented Auror, Neville, just like your dad, you were really brave in the Department of Mysteries with the Cruciatus Curse that Bellatrix used on you. I was ready to give in to save you-and this is Harry Potter talking-but you didn't give up. I already know you can handle boggarts well, from what Professor Lupin showed us in third year (remember Snape in that hat!) and you can grow up to be really talented, no matter what anyone says about you. I was with the Dursleys for ten years and they always treated me like crap and you and me are kind of alike, especially with the prophecy (ask Dumbledore), with both our parents not being with us (except I consider myself much luckier to have mine dead) and growing up with other family members but at least you grew up with your Gran who's magical. But look at what happened to me, I thought I was nothing for ten years and now I'm magical and destined to defeat Voldemort. I hope something like that never happens to you but that you grow up talented nonetheless._

_To Luna Lovegood: Luna, you believed in me when hardly anyone else did, you saw the thestrals with me when no one else did, and you went into the Department of Mysteries with me and helped defeat those Death Eaters which I don't think any 'normal' people can testify to. I hope that the _Quibbler_'s going strong and that you are able to find a Crumple-Horned Snorcack on the safari with your dad and I hope I didn't interrupt it with this will which you may find thoroughly pointless. If you do, you're welcome to leave. I'll tell your mum that you said hi, alright? And who knows, maybe it will be a Blibbering Humdinger or a Crumple-Horned Snorcack that guides me down the tunnel._

_To Rubeus Hagrid: Hagrid, you were the first magical person I met that I could remember. It was you who gave me the hope that I wasn't 'just Harry', but a wizard, someone who could accomplish something. Well, I'm off accomplishing it and I'll make the magical world a better place if I accomplish it. If not, well . . . there'll be another Boy-Who-Lived (or Girl-Who-Lived), and Dumbledore can just shut up about me being the one who has to fulfill the prophecy and all. Hagrid, if you get mad at me for this, then please don't hurt my body too much at the funeral (if you choose to have one, and if you find my body, I don't know where I'll fight Voldemort). I know that Dumbledore's a great man to you, but you didn't have a fate like mine. And Hagrid, if, as I've mentioned before, Sirius gives me the entire contents of #12 Grimmauld Place, you're welcome to Buckbeak. I know he misses Sirius and he'd be really happy to see you._

_To Remus Lupin: Professor Lupin, well, I expect you'd want me to call you Remus or Moony since you haven't been my teacher for two years now. But old habits are hard to break so I'll just call you Professor. Anyway, I'm guessing that Sirius gave me all the money in his Gringotts vault too, so, you're entitled to that if you'd like it. Well, no, I don't care if you'd like it or not. Believe it or not, and no matter how humble you are, Professor, believe me on this, you need that gold! I'm not sure how much money is in that vault, but I'm guessing it's a substantial amount because of Sirius having the 'most noble and ancient house of Black.' If you're not sure what to spend it on, take my advice and buy yourself some new robes. There's no denying you need them. And if you feel guilty spending it, think that it's what I would've wanted and if my ghost finds out you haven't spent it, I won't be too pleased, because I care about you Remus, whoa, guess I did break my old habit! You're one of the closest things to a father I ever had, especially in third year, you and Sirius were great to me. I mean, I know the Weasleys are awesome-no offense to you guys-but you and Sirius knew mum and dad and even Peter, I'm sorry to say and helped me find out more about my family, so thanks. Oh, and Remus, take some advice from an old friend, well young, but . . . never mind, just take some advice from Harry Potter, forget that you're a werewolf. All you do is change your form every full moon. You're still the mild-mannered professor, Remus Lupin at heart and your shape will never change that. Bearing that in mind, I think the students would really like it if you came back to teach at Hogwarts. I know I would but as I'm going to die, I know Ron and Hermione would and all the students who remember you, plus think of all the students that are coming along the line, waiting to learn how to defend themselves against boggarts and hinkypunks and the like. By the way, I'll tell mum, dad, and Sirius you said hi._

_To Nymphadora Tonks: Tonks, I hope you'll forgive me for putting your first name in this but I want to make it seem official. Anyway, Tonks, I always thought it was cool how you were a Metamorphmagus. Therefore, I bought a book on the subject, I'm not giving that to you, but I thought you might want to know that your talent inspired me to read-something I don't do that often. I am giving that book to Hermione as I never succeeded on becoming one despite my hard tries. However, Tonks, I will give you the small model of a Firebolt that you gave me last Christmas. I know it isn't much but . . . I wasn't sure what else to give. Oh, and I thought I ought to tell you that I become an Animagus over the few weeks of summer that I enjoyed. I bought a book on that too, which I am now giving to Hermione. I decided to tell you because your talent relates to it, changing your appearance at will, except mine's changing into an animal. I had planned to do it to keep Remus company, as I had been planning it beforehand, but now because of the prophecy my plans for the little part of my life left have changed. Just to let you know, I change into a black horse with green eyes and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. So, if you ever see a horse around, just think of me because I'll be watching over all of my friends after I die with mum and dad and Sirius._

_To Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody: Moody, I know I didn't get to know you that well. The Moody I _thought _I knew was actually Barty Crouch Jr., and you, the real Moody were locked in a trunk for nine months. I guess that taught you even more constant vigilance. However, in the year or so that I've know the _real _Moody, as a member of the Order, I've gone to appreciate how important it is, and how important each member of it is to all the gears. Mr. Weasley, I'm using a car analogy here. Moody, you're a really important member of the Order, especially with that swiveling eye of yours which can catch trouble-makers and Death Eaters but they're kind of the same thing, aren't they?, even though it is a bit creepy. Thanks for threatening the Dursleys for me too, that eye really scared them so they left me alone for the few weeks that I remained alive to write this and prepare to leave. I know that you might find this weird, Moody, but it was your imposter who was a Death Eater that inspired in me to be an Auror, so you can give yourself a pat on the back for getting me to pursue that career even though it is a hard path. But not all good paths are the easy ones, a lot of the time, the easy paths are the ones that lead to destruction like if I choose to ignore the prophecy I will be killed before I even get a chance to strike at Voldemort and the wizarding world will be doomed. That's one of the few things that Dumbledore taught me, to choose the right path instead of the easy one._

_To Severus Snape: Snape, you may have been wondering why I put you in my will. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure myself, but I feel obligated to-there, does _that _convince you I'm not like my dad? Because, Snape, I'm not, I've never wanted attention but you've always thought I have. I forgive you though, guess since I'm near death I'm becoming delirious. But . . . I think I can, hmm . . . this is hard, I like you somewhat. There, I've said it, I'm surprised I didn't have heart attack while writing this or you would've found me dead in my desk chair at #4 Privet Drive instead of dead on a deserted moor or a rocky cliff face where I'm bound to have the battle with Voldemort. He was always over-dramatic. Anyway, I have a cauldron and potions ingredients under the loose floorboard in my bedroom. You can keep them or give them to students who don't have their Potions stuff with them. Oh, and plus I have something I stole from my uncle which you might find enjoyable. I give you shampoo. Have you ever heard of it? With the way your hair looks every day, I'd guess not. Maybe if you use it, your hair will look less greasy and you won't look as menacing, so students in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff can grow to . . . like you somewhat._

_To Minerva McGonagall: Professor McGonagall, I know you were always really stern when you were talking to me, Ron, and Hermione during our various escapades, but you really liked us didn't you? Yes, Professor, I know. You probably talked about us with pride to Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout, how we were _your_ Gryffindors and how great we were. However, just in case I am wrong as I have been many times, I sincerely apologize if I have offended you. I'm not sure if a dead man's apology-which is what I am destined to be-is worth very much, but there you are anyway. Oh, shit, I just realized now, I should've told _you _I was an Animagus but I was just writing down things as they came to mind, so now you know, I'm a horse Animagus, just like you're a cat. No, I didn't register, but hey, I'm dead, so is there really a point in putting a dead person in Azkaban? Anyway, thanks for believing in me all these years, Professor. Even though you're stern, I love you as a Head of House, and you're the one who put me on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker instead of expelling me _and _just gave Ron and I detention with the Ford Anglia incident in second year. Yes, Professor, you have been merciful toward the head Marauder's son and I thank you for that. And, Professor, I'm really sorry that I'm dead because that's kind of shorting you out on what you promised Umbridge in that fight you had (and you told _me _to keep my temper!), that you would help me become an Auror if it was the last thing you did. Well, I guess I kind of am because Voldemort's one of the biggest Dark wizards of this time and I'm killing him, aren't I? That is, if I do. I guess I don't really have anything to give you except my sincere thanks and hopes that I got an E on my O.W.L._

_ And finally to Albus Dumbledore: I hate you, Dumbledore. I've already told you what I think of you at the beginning of this letter, but not thoroughly. So, I'll tell you thoroughly now. And if your heart breaks into a million pieces and you shatter and faint and die from the pain inside, then I don't care. I hate you too much to care. You're an old fool who cares more about his fucking, all important plan than the life of a young man, that young man being me. Like I said before, you stuck me with those bastards, the Dursleys without giving a shit what my life would be like for the next ten years. You knew that they were horrible Muggles, you knew they would treat me like crap, but you put me there anyway! You're not any better than the Dursleys, Dumbledore, you're a bastard and right now, I hate you more than Snape, I hate you more than Umbridge, and I'm not sure if I hate you more than Voldemort, it's a close call. As you read this or hear this you may be thinking that Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, your golden Gryffindor boy who's always saved the wizarding world in the past can't mean what he's saying, or, in this case, writing. Oh, but I do, old man, I mean every word that I've said, from what I've said about my friends to what I'm saying about you, you bunch of shit. I give you nothing, I give you no thanks, as you have done nothing for me to thank you about, I give you none of my possessions as you do not deserve even a speck of dust off the hem of my robes. In fact, you are worth less than that speck of dust, Dumbledore, and I hate you. I hate you, can I stress that enough to you, Dumbledore? I HATE YOU! And if your insides are burning right now because you're burning up from the sadness inside or if you feel shattered from what I have just said, or even if you feel angry at me and your insides are boiling with rage, I don't care! I DON'T CARE! Because, _that_, Dumbledore, is a little of what I felt with the Dursleys and a little of what I felt last year when you wouldn't so much as look at me, and then when you did, it was just to tell me that I have to either kill or be killed in the end! Do you even care what I felt like? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Well, do you? The only logical answer I can think of is yes, you do, because this is exactly what someone who enjoyed seeing me suffer would put me through. They would take away everything I ever loved and then tell me the prophecy as you did. And, Dumbledore, that's what a Death Eater would do. Dumbledore, this is not about something trivial such as not being chosen as prefect or not winning the House Cup-I don't even care about those anymore-this is about something much larger than that. You lied to me for my sixteen years, Dumbledore. For ten years, my life was lies with the Dursleys, and then, when I finally thought everything I saw in the magical world was real, you go and turn it upside-down! If I was in front of you right now, I would probably be able to use an Unforgivable with it's full effects, I hate you that much. I suppose someone told you about my failed Cruciatus in the Ministry of Magic, and I suppose you thought your Harry would never try something like that. Oh, but I did, Professor, but that was just righteous anger, I _want _to cause you pain, now! And if I was there I would use the Cruciatus on you and keep it on you until you were crying at my feet. And then, oh, then Dumbledore, I would kill you, and I would be merciful, using _Avada Kedavra_, instead of torturing you to death with the Cruciatus, as you justly deserve. You think Tom hates you, Dumbledore? Well, I hate you ten times more than that. So, I am leaving to go and kill Voldemort now and help make the magical world a better place, but not for you. I wouldn't give a shit if Voldemort or another Death Eater killed you, although I would like it to be Voldemort. No, I want to make it a better place for the people I care about, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Remus, and all the others mentioned in the will and out of it even. Even for people like Snape and Umbridge I want to make the world a better place, but not for you. So, bye, and do me one favor and stay away from my funeral. However, if this makes you feel any better, Dumbledore, I will leave you with these last two parting words: FUCK YOU!_

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

Note: Whoa, that was angsty! I really do have no idea where this fic came from, I just sat down at my computer and started typing. If you like it, thank you, if you don't, I don't blame you.

Note: No, this is not a one-shot, however, there is only going to be one other chapter after this one, from Harry's POV, about his actual death - what happened, how he defeated Voldemort, all that good stuff.


	2. Harry's Death

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it. If I did, I wouldn't be publishing things here and I'd be rich. Oh, yeah, and Remus would be mine – ALL MINE!!! Mwahaha!!! Ahem, yes, on with the chapter!

**Chapter 2: Harry's Death**

I feel the wind in my hair as I fly my top-of-the-line Firebolt broomstick away, it is finished, I've delivered my message. I have left my will on my bedside cabinet, two days ago now (it's not like food matters, I'm going to die, anyway), and I know that Order members will find it when they come to check up on me as I was supposed to write every three days. I guess that Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley did that on Dumbledore's orders. That bastard, he doesn't care one bit about me, he just wants to make sure his precious weapon isn't damaged before the time it comes to be used. For I am an 'it,' to Dumbledore, not Harry, not a 'he,' an 'it.' In fact, I hope it's him that finds it and reads it before he shows it to anyone else and reads what I think of him, of his oh, so wonderful plan and the reason he kept me with those Muggles for ten years.

"But am I ready?" I ask myself as I fly. I mean, I'm mad at Dumbledore, there's no doubt about that, my will testifies to it in black and white. However, what about the others? I know that Hermione and Ginny will be devastated and start sobbing once they hear what I'm going to do, girls are just like that (though they aren't nearly as bad as Cho, if I'd put her name in there, she'd have drowned everyone in the room with her tears). Of course, that might be good, because I know that a lot of the people who I've invited would be happy to see me (despite it being in the afterlife). Ron along with the two girls who I've already mentioned would run to me and knock me over, screaming how happy they are to see me, especially Hermione. I remember when she did that when I came to Grimmauld Place in the summer of my fifth year, the summer when all this pain and deception started because of the oh, so wonderful Albus Dumbledore.

However, once they subsided, I think about getting up and drawing Ginny into a passionate kiss, not caring who was watching. I wouldn't care if there were a million people watching, but I should have shown my love for her beforehand. But now it's too late, I won't be able to for years to come. All I can do is hope that she takes pity on my corpse when she sees it and kisses it with those tender, warm lips of hers which I have dreamed of touching with my own so many times before.

Of course, Neville and Luna, who I don't know that well, but acted like heroes in the battle in the Department of Mysteries, were invited to the will-reading as well and I guess Neville would smile at me nervously while Luna would say "Hello, Harry," and then go off to hunt of the ghosts of Crumple-Horned Snorcacks. Are they real?

Then there would be the others, and, though not as close to me, I still love them (with the exception of Snape who I . . . like somewhat). Mrs. Weasley would come and gather me in one of her bone-crushing hugs while Mr. Weasley patted my back and smiled (I imagine that she'll sob into her husband's shoulder and/or attack Dumbledore when she hears the will and Dumbledore's explanation which he had better give - they deserve to know much more than he does). The rest of the Weasleys would do their numerous forms of greeting, Fred and George probably with a Nose-Biting Teacup or a Canary Cream - putting their own twang on it. I wonder for an instant what Percy would say when he heard that all of his family members had died, for I doubt that he came to the will-reading though I invited him.

Then there would be Hagrid, who, mopping his cheeks with a giant, spotted handkerchief would come up and pat my back, seeming to make me sink several inches. Tonks would grin and say, "Wotcher, Harry!" as if we were meeting for a picnic and Lupin . . . oh, I forgot, Remus, would simply stare at me wordlessly, his hand hovering over my shoulder tentatively. He never seemed to be one to get sentimental over things; he was always an authority figure despite being one of Mum and Dad's best friends. When the will is read, he'll probably just stand there, then leave the room for some Order business like tracking down the remaining Death Eaters (and Voldemort, if I don't manage to kill that evil bastard), without showing his true feelings.

Moody's magical eye would probably be swiveling all around to take in these new surroundings while Snape would simply gaze at me in hatred (he probably doesn't even care that I . . . like him somewhat) with an expression that clearly says, "Look what you've gotten us into this time, Potter. You're just as arrogant as your father," or some other bullshit.

McGonagall might look less stern than usual and Dumbledore . . . well, I wouldn't care what Dumbledore's reaction would be. He might start toward me with those sparkling blue eyes of his seeming to X-ray me, trying to figure out what's wrong (besides my death), but I'd ignore him and walk away to join those people I've thought about my whole life . . . Mum and Dad.

But I'm thinking nonsense, soon enough I'll be in one world and they'll be in another and more than space will separate us. I know they'll miss me and I'll miss them, too, but I have to do this. If I don't, then I'll put even more people in danger that I love and care about : Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Weasleys, Lupin, Hagrid, McGonagall . . . the list goes on and on. If I don't, then they might be killed and I cannot, will not, let that happen.

Instead, I will enjoy what I know will be up there waiting for me: my parents, the people I've dreamed about my whole life, of me seeing them and talking, just talking and enjoying their presence. Sometimes I think I can remember a bit of them, Dad tossing me up in the air, laughing, Mum rocking me to sleep, humming a tune that I can barely remember, bits and pieces, but I want more than bits and pieces, I want it all, I want all of the pieces to fit together in the puzzle, to know everything, to relive everything, to see them again.

Of course Sirius will be there, too, I know and I'll be able to apologize for as good as killing him, though my guess is that he'll blow it off as easily as a dust mite. Then, we'll catch up on the few weeks that we missed of each other and I'll tell all of them about my will. I am sure they'll sympathize with me, after all I'm their son and godson, and, I've been told that Dad and Sirius are a lot like me (or rather, I'm a lot like them), and they will obviously share the same feelings that I have toward Dumbledore.

I think of what we'll do up there, Dad will probably show me his Animagus form just to show off and Mum will roll her eyes. Sirius might have some form of his flying motorcycle up there, who knows? I can make up for all those years I didn't spend with them by being with them for eternity, I can tell them about my life on Earth - Ron, Hermione, Ginny (she does look a lot like Mum, except her eyes are hazel), how Snape's just as prejudiced against me as he was toward them, Remus (as much as I know about him, anyway), the Weasleys ("did you know that Fred and George are planning to open a joke shop?"), and so many other people that I can't name - both good and bad.

With these happy thoughts of spending eternity with my parents, I allow my mind to drift and steer my broom with deft motions, not sure where it is leading me or what I'm getting myself into, but knowing that I need to. I almost want to call out, "Hey, Voldy, come and get me!" but stop myself. Suppose there are Muggles around?

However, almost as if my thoughts have summoned it, there are jets of spell-fire coming from the ground far below and I steer my broom to avoid the Stunning and Disarming Spells that are being sent up at me. Instead, I bring my broom's nose down so that I am diving straight toward the ground - dives are my specialty - dodging the spells as if they are merely Bludgers that the Slytherins are sending at me. Finally, I get to the ground and see that there is a group of Death Eaters there (they were blocked by cloud cover while I was flying), consisting of Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle Sr., and the rat himself: Peter Pettigrew, along with numerous others who I recognize only from that night in the graveyard and a few from the battle in the Ministry.

"Oh, look, it's ickle baby Potter," Bellatrix says in her sing-song voice that I so greatly detest. "Come to avenge your dead godfather, baby Potter?"

Before I could answer, a voice that I had heard only in my nightmares these past few weeks was heard and Voldemort appeared, saying, "Oh, it's much more than that isn't it, Potter?"

"You know that just as well as I do, Tom," I say mockingly.

"Let us duel, then," Voldemort says, sending a Cruciatus Curse at me which I just manage to dodge by diving behind a boulder and the Curse dashing it to bits. The Death Eaters laugh maliciously and close in, in a tight circle, sending their own spells at me, but Riddle raises a hand. "He is mine to finish. Do not fire unless I tell you to," he orders and they subside, simply creating a barrier around me while Lord Voldemort has me to himself.

I try not to show my fear as I dodge the spells and send back feeble hexes and jinxes of my own (or at least they seem feeble to a Dark wizard of Voldemort's caliber). Why the hell was I thinking this? What am I supposed to do to defeat him? However, I put a brave face on by saying sarcastically, "Didn't you say that last time, Tom, and I ended up escaping from you in the graveyard?"

"You dare to speak to the Dark Lord like that, Potter?" Lucius demands, sending a Stunning Spell my way and I am just quick enough to use a Shield Charm.

"Silence, Lucius!" Voldemort snaps to the Death Eater as if he were a child. "Potter is right, but he won't escape this time, though. For there's no Dumbledore to save your life this time, is there? There's no Portkey that you can run to and go back to your savior, Dumbledore, is there?"

"Shut up!" I scream, sending a Disarming Spell at the Dark Lord which he easily parries and I have to dodge quickly to avoid it.

"But I don't think that Potter wants to go back to the great Albus Dumbledore, this time," Voldemort concedes as if he is at a scholarly convention rather than on a battlefield. "No, Potter hates his great savior; he's run away and now look where it's left him. There's no Dumbledore to save you now, Harry!"

"You're wrong!"

"Do not insult the Dark Lord, Potter," Bellatrix warns. "He knows, he always knows. Isn't that true, My Lord?" she asks, turning to him for affirmation. I want to chuck, she reminds me of Malfoy with Snape.

"Yes, it is true, Bella," Tom confirms. "And do not deny it, Potter. In that will of yours, you used many Muggle swear words, isn't that correct? Why, I would guess that some of them were even worse than 'Mudblood,' in other words, your filthy Muggleborn mother," he says, with that cold laugh of his.

I feel my blood turn to ice and my hatred for him is immense. I send a Cruciatus Curse his way and he laughs and turns it toward me, instead, putting his own power into it to outweigh my own. I'm not quick enough to dodge it and am flooded with pain, screaming, while intermingling it with swears. Voldemort easily casts a Silencing Charm on me and laughs as I mouth silently, trying to show him how much I hate him. Finally, he stops the spell and leaves me on the ground, silently panting.

"No swears for you, Potter. You should wash your mouth out, your filthy mother would want you too, you know," he says, casting a Scourgify on me and my mouth fills with soap and bubbles which I spit out onto the ground, fumbling around for my wand which I dropped when the Cruciatus was sent my way.

I finally find it and get up wiping the soap off my mouth, so I look less like a rabid animal and the battle begins in earnest, Voldemort now going from so-called 'harmless,' curses to Killing Curses. I have to use every bit of my Quidditch training to dodge the network of jets of green light being sent my way, sending my own feeble hexes and jinxes, now and then trying a Cruciatus on the Dark Lord. I think of using Priori Incantatem for the briefest instant, but stop, for Voldemort has probably learnt not to let that happen and, even if I did, what would I do when the ghosts of my parents appeared? There's no Portkey to run to this time, the only thing I could do was run to my broom, but, the Death Eaters and Voldemort would shoot me down like a goose and that would not accomplish my mission - to defeat Lord Voldemort.

I come out of my reverie by dodging a Killing Curse that just brushes the top of my messy head of hair. I'll die here, I know it, and there's no Dumbledore to save my neck this time, I know that Tom's right. But this is what I was meant to do, I need to do this, and Dumbledore risking his neck for me would only delay the time that I finally need to do it. Plus, I doubt that he'll ever do anything for me again after what I said to him in the will. But I believe it . . . don't I? I mean, he could have easily put up wards in another wizard's house, such as the Burrow or Remus's place (maybe he and I could have become closer then), but he chose to put me with those blasted Muggles who didn't give a shit about whether I was dead or alive. To them, I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, the wizarding world's savior, but a rag-tag freak who didn't even thank his 'wonderful relatives,' for the clothes they put on his 'ungrateful back.' However, suppose Voldemort had returned earlier in some obscure manner? Suppose he had gone after me and the wards at the Burrow or Remus's house hadn't been enough to protect me? I would have been killed; I know that and probably the others along with me. But he just wanted to keep his precious weapon safe, I remind myself angrily. He doesn't give a shit about me.

However, maybe since I'm so near death I'm starting to go crazy and relive the past or maybe it was a dream anyway, but I remember something so obscure that I don't know where it's been in my mind these many years. There is an old man looking down on me (I guess that I'm only a baby at this time) and I know that it's Dumbledore. He smiles at me, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, but there is a deep pain in him which the baby me does not realize. The baby me reaches up and pats Dumbledore's long, silvery-white beard, gurgling in pleasure as I feel the ticklish hairs. Dumbledore chuckles and kisses me on the head, his mustache tickling my head and I giggle.

The old wizard smiles down at me tenderly. "Oh, my dear boy," he says. "I love you so." And now his voice drops to a whisper as if I can actually understand what he's saying in my baby state and doesn't want others to hear. "I'm so sorry I had to put you with these dreadful Muggles, but it's for your own protection. I'll explain all of it to you when you're older, but, believe me, Harry, I'll get you out of here someday. I promise." And as Dumbledore said this, I notice that a tear slips into his long beard and the baby me reaches up a hand to wipe it away. Dumbledore smiles sadly and grips my tiny hand in his own weathered one. "I love you, Harry," he repeats, before standing up from where he had been kneeling next to what I guess is my cheap, makeshift playpen and disappears with a pop and a swish of his midnight-blue robes. Then, my baby self is left alone in a corner of the room and I begin to cry.

He loved me, was my first thought once I was brought out of this flashback of sorts. He really loved me! And I doubt that someone who cared about me that much would want to put me with such blasted Muggles. In fact, he even said, "I'm so sorry I had to put you with these dreadful Muggles, but it's for your own protection," and I'm guessing he would care that I went off to kill myself, that he wants to keep me safe (and hopefully alive) at the end of this Second War against Voldemort. But it's too late to turn back now, I know, all I can do is hope for the best and hope that maybe somehow with that great magic of his, Dumbledore will take pity on me and come to help.

I'm sorry, Dumbledore, I think with all my heart and mind and soul as I dodge the many Killing Curses being sent at me. I'm so, so sorry.

Voldemort must have used Legilimency on me again, I decide for he laughs his cold laugh that I so despise and says, "No one can save you now, Potter. No one!" and, before I can react has sent a Killing Curse straight at me which I know I won't be fast enough to evade. My last thought is, "I'm sorry," before a scarlet blur darts in front of me and is hit squarely by the jet of green light. There is a scream of rage from Voldemort and a cry of sadness from me as Fawkes the phoenix becomes a small pile of ashes with an infinitesimally small red head of fuzz and beak with a small bundle next to him.

I look down and see that it is a long and rectangular bundle, and, with a deft motion, unwrap it to reveal Godric Gryffindor's sword. Somehow, somewhere, Dumbledore knew! Thanks, Dumbledore, I think, relieved as I wield the sword to the assembled Death Eaters and, of course, the Dark Lord himself.

As I touch it, a strange feeling comes through me, and I feel the weapon pulsing in my hand, creating a golden aura around both itself and me. I remember Dumbledore saying to me at the end of second year that only a true Gryffindor could pull that ('that' being the sword), out of the hat and I decide that that must be true for the Dark wizards are staring at me in horror as I stare at them in hatred, my green eyes glowing with anger; even Voldemort himself looks skeptical. With an almighty cry, I thrust the sword forward and run into the crowd of the Death Eaters who have come around Tom (on his orders, of course), swinging left and right and crying out maniacally as I deftly avoid the many curses being thrown at me, some as weak as Stunning and Disarming Spells and quite a few Avada Kedavra itself.

Finally, my path to Lord Voldemort is clear and, just as he sends the Killing Curse at me, I drive the sword into where his heart should be (that is, if he still has a heart from all the evil deeds that he's done), and I see the evil red light leave his eyes and the still living Death Eaters scream in horror as the jet of green light hits me squarely in the chest and I hear a burst of melancholy phoenix song before the life is knocked from me.

I am walking down a long, dark tunnel now and there's a feeble light at the end of the tunnel which is getting brighter and brighter as I approach. This is how I've always thought of dying, I decide as I get closer and I can distinguish three figures waiting just beyond the entrance and I'm close enough to know who they are, it's Mum, Dad, and Sirius, just as I'd always imagined them waiting for me. Dad and Sirius are grinning and waving jubilantly at me while Mum is smiling, but is also wiping a tear from her eye. I guess it's a bittersweet moment for her, seeing her child again after nearly fifteen years but having that child die.

I hear Dad's voice say, "Come on, son. We're getting old here," and then Mum reprimanding him.

"James, he's just died if you didn't remember." I grin and run all the faster. I'm their son! As I run, I hear that burst of phoenix song again, becoming fainter and fainter as I travel farther and farther down the tunnel. And I know what it means and what it's telling me to do. I have to go make things right.

I'm at the end of the tunnel now and Dad and Sirius are grinning at me while Mum smiles softly. "Hello, sweetheart," Mum says reaching and smoothing my messy hair away from my forehead.

"Hey," I breathe. It's funny, I've been thinking of meeting them all my life, but when I finally have (or at least have in a sense), I'm tongue-twisted.

However, Dad brings me out of this reverie with a well-chosen remark. "Well, are you just going to stand in this entryway all day or come on in? We only have eternity, you know."

I grin at him and then say, "Er . . . well, I just have to go back."

"Go back? You're dead, Harry," Sirius says.

"But people can come back as ghosts, can't they? Can't they?" I demand. I have to, can't they see that?

"Is that what you want to do, Harry?" Dad asks. He sounds hurt.

"Only for a little while," I promise. "I did something wrong back there and I need to fix it, then I'll come back. Don't worry." Now all three adults look very grim. "What is it?" I ask worriedly.

"Harry, dear," Mum starts. "When one leaves this world and becomes a ghost it is very hard to come back into the afterlife realm, in fact it's usually impossible. Are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes," I answer. "This is really, really important, Mum."

"What is it?" Sirius teases. "To tell Ginny that you love her?"

I blush somewhat and Mum and Dad exchange glances. "Who's Ginny?" Dad asks.

"I'll tell you when I get back and I will find a way back," I promise. "Believe me," I say, giving each of them a hug. Dad and Sirius return it gruffly and Mum kisses me on the forehead.

"Please come back, little one," she begs, holding both of my hands in hers.

"I will," I say. "I will," and with that I turn around and go back through the entrance to Earth, setting my sights toward Hogwarts and hoping that it isn't too late to repair the damage that I've done.

Note: Well, this is the last chapter. However, I will be publishing a sequel/companion fic to this soon that is called "An Ironic Title" (Boy-Who-LIVED's DEATH – get it?). It basically details the reactions of everyone mentioned in the will in this story.


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